Aunt Nancy
Chapter 49
The Christmas Issue - Pt 2
I was feeling the buzz from the two mimosas as I mixed my aunt and me a third and wondered about the time and how soon Gordon and Uncle Rich would be returning. My aunt and I were in a holiday party mode and I didn't want those two to re-invade the house and end the crazy vibe we had going.
I slowly made my way back to the upstairs section of the rambling split level home we lived in, carrying the two drink glasses carefully, they being of fine crystal. Most of the lights in the house were off, and I was quite aware I was quickly approaching, in relative darkness, a hardly used spare bedroom of that house, where my now voluptuously built aunt, during a few hands of strip cinch, had in the last half hour deftly removed both her panties and bra, while her husband and nephew were out and about in the narrow crowded streets of Boston, supposedly doing some male bonding, whilst my aunt and I, here at their nicely appointed home in the suburb of Newton, were busy getting acohol'd up while removing our clothes during a friendly game of cards.
The unusual thing, an outside observer might have noticed, about this game of strip cinch, was not that the aunt had almost purposefully lost the first few hands, but that the clothing items she'd chosen to remove from her person first, were the ones that covered her sexual apparati. She hadn't removed socks, or shoes, or say, a wristwatch or necklace, but had instead removed her big 40K bra first, which tried to enclose and tame her rather lavish bulbish hugetits, and in short order after that, removed the small item of clothing which covered her sexual vortex womancunt, while yet keeping her long black bohemian skirt on.
And it wasn't as if I were some secret paramour, or gentleman friend or acquaintance, she was enticing clandestinely, but was her very own nephew whom she first began to enthrall when he was only 8, she jogging with him in his hometown suburban neighborhood, in the early morning hours, with her big nipples making a big unholy ruckus into the flimsy little clingy top she wore, covering her rather average 34C tits, at the time, but for her massive headlights, twitting about that morning in a seriously agitated and erectified state, all of which had served to bind and entwine the little precocious youngster to her, his lovely aunt, irrevocably and irreversibly.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Now it's 12 years later from that early morning jog. I'm 20. Since that morning, she's slowly added a half foot of bust size, as well as several cup sizes of larger, thickly titted juggmeat. She's no longer average busted, but instead, to anyone of even the most unpracticed eye, she's quite definitely, voluptuously large-titted to the point of stupefied distraction. It's for my aunt to go anywhere without being stared at, obsessively.
The room is dark but for a few candles we've lit. In one corner a simple bureau and mirror. Then a window, the drapes closed tight. In front of the window on a highboy bureau an old radio plays soft rock with light static in the background broadcast from an obscure AM station miles away that we both like, only receivable at night.
I see my aunt sitting on the carpeted floor against a wall, her legs out straight, she now topless, her blood red top thrown haphazardly onto the bed, her white reflecting breasts resplendent, in full view, resting down her chest, their fat thick-rounded juggbottoms hovering ebulliently over the waistband of her long black bohemian skirt, her large bulbous areolae obviously inflamed and slightly swollen, her head thrown back against the wall, and eyes closed.
"Oh you're back, love. I missed you."
I hand her the fresh glass of mimosa, and she takes a sip, closing her eyes again.
"Delicious darling!" she says, opening her eyes, and rolling them back behind her eyelids momentarily. I sit down on the bed, holding my glass, sipping at it. "I played a round while you were gone," she says, "and oops!, I lost. So I thought it was important that I should pay the penalty...." No need to explain.
"Mmm," I respond, having an extended stare at her miraculous, quite exposed, jugghood.
She takes another sip of her mimosa, then...
"There's been a change I've sensed lately, darling," she says, looking around.
I wonder to myself, "Does she know I finally did the nasty, with Kerry? Or that I watched what she and Emjay did that one late afternoon in the dojo, or what she did to that young black belt candidate?"
She stands, while Killing Me Softly plays on the AM. "Let's dance, sweetheart."
"Okay."
She holds me about my shoulders while my hands palm the cool skin around her waist, and I pull her to me. I feel her large, loose breasts plunge into my sides and chest, while we slowly move. I ponder that if I were dancing with Kerry, those pointers of hers might be pushing into my rib cage, like sticks, while with my aunt, her conglomeration conforms to the small of my waist and hips.
"You feel like a man now, darling."
"Mmm," I grunt.
"I love how you've grown," she says, and I'm silent, as we dance. My groin has swelled, and I've no doubt she feels it pressing into her.
While we're dancing she places the palm of her right hand gently on my jeans over my left ass cheek, and says quietly, her face into mine, "Do you know what I just realized, darling?" I shake my head, no. "Sweetheart, we just played another couple of hands, and oh my, sweet honey, you lost. I'm so sorry dear. Well, you'll have to take off something. Are you alright with that?" I nod yes. "Oh goody! Let's get those jeans and u-wear off you right now, shall we?"
I nod yes again, step back, and do as my aunt's instructed me, still woozied up, sipping that third mimosa.
She's stepped away from me a few feet. I look at her gleaming green eyes, that seem to have lightning bolts in them, and then at her big shapely conicular tits. She's like full of milk, though not lactating. My 20 year old rod's sticking straight out wanting and ready for anything. I'm not sure she even notices.
Then she says, "I have an idea. Let's have you lay down on the floor, and get your head up comfy on these pillows." She grabs a couple of thick pillows from the guest bed, puts them on the floor, pats them down, and says "Here honey... before your cousin comes home." I do as told, but don't have the faintest idea of the why behind it, why we just don't get on the bed, or what exactly it is that will go on before my cousin comes home..
But as I've laid down on my back on the floor and my head raised up some by the two big pillows under it, I look up towards the ceiling of the candle lit room and see her turgid knockers lingering above, jiggling slightly, her feet spread apart some, as she's standing just behind where my head lays on the pillows, she facing my feet, while she's begun to tweak those protuberant nipples and knead her large, velopular, areolae.
And while I hear her say, "Oh, honey," I can't see her say it, because her knockers block the view of her pretty, warm face.
She then comes down nearer to where I am, on her knees behind me, facing my feet, her swaying gallon-sized knockerhood neighborhood of fresh bigfat tit, lingering inches above my eyes and then one conicular spell-binding nipple is in my mouth, to suckle me. I remember what she did to Mike, the young black belt candidate, only a few years older than me, and wonder if I'm just going to be another Mike to her.
I hear her say, "Oh, honey," again, which gives me assurance, that I'm not another Mike to her, that my aunt does have feelings for me, and loves me in a unique way she can't anyone else. I watched her develop from a 34C, when I was 8, to what I believe at these moments, twelve years later, is a horrendous 40K, and I witnessed her defy my uncle, her husband, to wearing whatever tops she pleased whenever she pleased, instead of concealing her burgeoning mammarial development as he preferred she would, but, instead, dresses to her own liking, wearing tops that more freely show her fulsome pendulating jiggling titheft and nipplehood, braless often, and swimming now and then, doing laps, sans suit, even in my presence, in our pool, while Uncle Rich looks on, pretending to read his newspaper, my aunt in defiance once again.
I clandestinely (at least I presume I was) watched her seduce Emjay, and I heard whatever it was she did to Tom, up in his bedroom, that one night out at the lake when we stayed at our cabin. And so here she was now, taking me, in whatever fashion she pleased, and I was all aboard, ticket in hand, rod in bongo-bongo mode, eager and wanting this woman my aunt, doing whatever it was she wanted me to do.
Still suckling me, she does a thing she's never done before, and that is to lean forward, supporting herself with her left hand, balancing her torso to the left of my ribcage, and then with the fingers of her right hand, begins fondling and playing with my vertically risen erector appendage. No one, not even Kerry, in our one encounter up till then, had yet done that, had yet touched me. Soon she is assuaging the viscous drops seeping out of me all along up and down my shaft. I begin to hear the freight train coming again, a thing I'd still not encountered head on, the closest it ever being when it was shortly due, its arrival though preempted and canceled by Kerry's abrupt and tumultuous histrionics, well before the Daniel freight train could arrive on station. And so as yet, it is a mystery to me. I still fear it and am pretty sure I'll have to be taken to the hospital immediately after it arrives.
But this time it seems I know there will just be no holding back that train. At least I figure once the thing has managed to blow my whole insides apart, my aunt can quickly rush me to the hospital. It feels like I am beginning to become ever so wetter and slippery'er, more than I could ever recall, the train louder and causing more vibrations at the station than it's ever done before. Then when my aunt, in one deft move, manages to scoot forward on both elbows, while her big heavy jugg pulls out of my mouth and both her tits are dragged along my abdomen, while she at the same time manages to lift her black skirt so as to ensconce my head and face and mouth under it and within it, putting me in darkness, as I feel something wet and soft come down over my throbbing appendage while her slit woman-vortex cunt-apparati is lowered onto my tongue and mouth.
In short my aunt's not only touched me for the first time, but now she's blowing me, while having me lick her below.
The crazy thing is that It seems all natural to me as I taste and inhale her intimate woman angst, its musky foreignness, its forbidden sweetness. It's like we are one being sucking and licking each's essence into their souls, with the added plus of ecstatically supreme sexual inward connectedness, doubly enticed by my placing my palms under each jiggling and pendulously shaking bigtit of hers, squeezing and kneading her huge soft heavy juggs, as her train and mine both with no stopping are definitely coming into the station, once and for all, and people better get the hell out of their way, now!, as my insides let loose with a fury and overwhelming sinful but temptatious and irresistible drama of volcanic eruption the likes of which I've never known.
And then, in the silence of our wondering about what just happened, of my wondering if I should be taken to the hospital, if all my internal organs and whatnot were still okay, I mean, how could they be, after all that...
...we hear it.
"It" is the grinding rumbling "grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr" of the various gears and blocks and pulleys and chain, and their low rumble vibration one could never not hear, no matter where you are in the house. It is the vaunted automatic garage door opening, heralding the imminent arrival of Gordon and Uncle Rich, about to return into the home confines, where my Aunt Nancy and I, have seconds earlier, just blown and cunnilingus'd each other, on the carpeted floor of an upstairs seldom used spare bedroom.
Chapter 49
The Christmas Issue - Pt 2
I was feeling the buzz from the two mimosas as I mixed my aunt and me a third and wondered about the time and how soon Gordon and Uncle Rich would be returning. My aunt and I were in a holiday party mode and I didn't want those two to re-invade the house and end the crazy vibe we had going.
I slowly made my way back to the upstairs section of the rambling split level home we lived in, carrying the two drink glasses carefully, they being of fine crystal. Most of the lights in the house were off, and I was quite aware I was quickly approaching, in relative darkness, a hardly used spare bedroom of that house, where my now voluptuously built aunt, during a few hands of strip cinch, had in the last half hour deftly removed both her panties and bra, while her husband and nephew were out and about in the narrow crowded streets of Boston, supposedly doing some male bonding, whilst my aunt and I, here at their nicely appointed home in the suburb of Newton, were busy getting acohol'd up while removing our clothes during a friendly game of cards.
The unusual thing, an outside observer might have noticed, about this game of strip cinch, was not that the aunt had almost purposefully lost the first few hands, but that the clothing items she'd chosen to remove from her person first, were the ones that covered her sexual apparati. She hadn't removed socks, or shoes, or say, a wristwatch or necklace, but had instead removed her big 40K bra first, which tried to enclose and tame her rather lavish bulbish hugetits, and in short order after that, removed the small item of clothing which covered her sexual vortex womancunt, while yet keeping her long black bohemian skirt on.
And it wasn't as if I were some secret paramour, or gentleman friend or acquaintance, she was enticing clandestinely, but was her very own nephew whom she first began to enthrall when he was only 8, she jogging with him in his hometown suburban neighborhood, in the early morning hours, with her big nipples making a big unholy ruckus into the flimsy little clingy top she wore, covering her rather average 34C tits, at the time, but for her massive headlights, twitting about that morning in a seriously agitated and erectified state, all of which had served to bind and entwine the little precocious youngster to her, his lovely aunt, irrevocably and irreversibly.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Now it's 12 years later from that early morning jog. I'm 20. Since that morning, she's slowly added a half foot of bust size, as well as several cup sizes of larger, thickly titted juggmeat. She's no longer average busted, but instead, to anyone of even the most unpracticed eye, she's quite definitely, voluptuously large-titted to the point of stupefied distraction. It's for my aunt to go anywhere without being stared at, obsessively.
The room is dark but for a few candles we've lit. In one corner a simple bureau and mirror. Then a window, the drapes closed tight. In front of the window on a highboy bureau an old radio plays soft rock with light static in the background broadcast from an obscure AM station miles away that we both like, only receivable at night.
I see my aunt sitting on the carpeted floor against a wall, her legs out straight, she now topless, her blood red top thrown haphazardly onto the bed, her white reflecting breasts resplendent, in full view, resting down her chest, their fat thick-rounded juggbottoms hovering ebulliently over the waistband of her long black bohemian skirt, her large bulbous areolae obviously inflamed and slightly swollen, her head thrown back against the wall, and eyes closed.
"Oh you're back, love. I missed you."
I hand her the fresh glass of mimosa, and she takes a sip, closing her eyes again.
"Delicious darling!" she says, opening her eyes, and rolling them back behind her eyelids momentarily. I sit down on the bed, holding my glass, sipping at it. "I played a round while you were gone," she says, "and oops!, I lost. So I thought it was important that I should pay the penalty...." No need to explain.
"Mmm," I respond, having an extended stare at her miraculous, quite exposed, jugghood.
She takes another sip of her mimosa, then...
"There's been a change I've sensed lately, darling," she says, looking around.
I wonder to myself, "Does she know I finally did the nasty, with Kerry? Or that I watched what she and Emjay did that one late afternoon in the dojo, or what she did to that young black belt candidate?"
She stands, while Killing Me Softly plays on the AM. "Let's dance, sweetheart."
"Okay."
She holds me about my shoulders while my hands palm the cool skin around her waist, and I pull her to me. I feel her large, loose breasts plunge into my sides and chest, while we slowly move. I ponder that if I were dancing with Kerry, those pointers of hers might be pushing into my rib cage, like sticks, while with my aunt, her conglomeration conforms to the small of my waist and hips.
"You feel like a man now, darling."
"Mmm," I grunt.
"I love how you've grown," she says, and I'm silent, as we dance. My groin has swelled, and I've no doubt she feels it pressing into her.
While we're dancing she places the palm of her right hand gently on my jeans over my left ass cheek, and says quietly, her face into mine, "Do you know what I just realized, darling?" I shake my head, no. "Sweetheart, we just played another couple of hands, and oh my, sweet honey, you lost. I'm so sorry dear. Well, you'll have to take off something. Are you alright with that?" I nod yes. "Oh goody! Let's get those jeans and u-wear off you right now, shall we?"
I nod yes again, step back, and do as my aunt's instructed me, still woozied up, sipping that third mimosa.
She's stepped away from me a few feet. I look at her gleaming green eyes, that seem to have lightning bolts in them, and then at her big shapely conicular tits. She's like full of milk, though not lactating. My 20 year old rod's sticking straight out wanting and ready for anything. I'm not sure she even notices.
Then she says, "I have an idea. Let's have you lay down on the floor, and get your head up comfy on these pillows." She grabs a couple of thick pillows from the guest bed, puts them on the floor, pats them down, and says "Here honey... before your cousin comes home." I do as told, but don't have the faintest idea of the why behind it, why we just don't get on the bed, or what exactly it is that will go on before my cousin comes home..
But as I've laid down on my back on the floor and my head raised up some by the two big pillows under it, I look up towards the ceiling of the candle lit room and see her turgid knockers lingering above, jiggling slightly, her feet spread apart some, as she's standing just behind where my head lays on the pillows, she facing my feet, while she's begun to tweak those protuberant nipples and knead her large, velopular, areolae.
And while I hear her say, "Oh, honey," I can't see her say it, because her knockers block the view of her pretty, warm face.
She then comes down nearer to where I am, on her knees behind me, facing my feet, her swaying gallon-sized knockerhood neighborhood of fresh bigfat tit, lingering inches above my eyes and then one conicular spell-binding nipple is in my mouth, to suckle me. I remember what she did to Mike, the young black belt candidate, only a few years older than me, and wonder if I'm just going to be another Mike to her.
I hear her say, "Oh, honey," again, which gives me assurance, that I'm not another Mike to her, that my aunt does have feelings for me, and loves me in a unique way she can't anyone else. I watched her develop from a 34C, when I was 8, to what I believe at these moments, twelve years later, is a horrendous 40K, and I witnessed her defy my uncle, her husband, to wearing whatever tops she pleased whenever she pleased, instead of concealing her burgeoning mammarial development as he preferred she would, but, instead, dresses to her own liking, wearing tops that more freely show her fulsome pendulating jiggling titheft and nipplehood, braless often, and swimming now and then, doing laps, sans suit, even in my presence, in our pool, while Uncle Rich looks on, pretending to read his newspaper, my aunt in defiance once again.
I clandestinely (at least I presume I was) watched her seduce Emjay, and I heard whatever it was she did to Tom, up in his bedroom, that one night out at the lake when we stayed at our cabin. And so here she was now, taking me, in whatever fashion she pleased, and I was all aboard, ticket in hand, rod in bongo-bongo mode, eager and wanting this woman my aunt, doing whatever it was she wanted me to do.
Still suckling me, she does a thing she's never done before, and that is to lean forward, supporting herself with her left hand, balancing her torso to the left of my ribcage, and then with the fingers of her right hand, begins fondling and playing with my vertically risen erector appendage. No one, not even Kerry, in our one encounter up till then, had yet done that, had yet touched me. Soon she is assuaging the viscous drops seeping out of me all along up and down my shaft. I begin to hear the freight train coming again, a thing I'd still not encountered head on, the closest it ever being when it was shortly due, its arrival though preempted and canceled by Kerry's abrupt and tumultuous histrionics, well before the Daniel freight train could arrive on station. And so as yet, it is a mystery to me. I still fear it and am pretty sure I'll have to be taken to the hospital immediately after it arrives.
But this time it seems I know there will just be no holding back that train. At least I figure once the thing has managed to blow my whole insides apart, my aunt can quickly rush me to the hospital. It feels like I am beginning to become ever so wetter and slippery'er, more than I could ever recall, the train louder and causing more vibrations at the station than it's ever done before. Then when my aunt, in one deft move, manages to scoot forward on both elbows, while her big heavy jugg pulls out of my mouth and both her tits are dragged along my abdomen, while she at the same time manages to lift her black skirt so as to ensconce my head and face and mouth under it and within it, putting me in darkness, as I feel something wet and soft come down over my throbbing appendage while her slit woman-vortex cunt-apparati is lowered onto my tongue and mouth.
In short my aunt's not only touched me for the first time, but now she's blowing me, while having me lick her below.
The crazy thing is that It seems all natural to me as I taste and inhale her intimate woman angst, its musky foreignness, its forbidden sweetness. It's like we are one being sucking and licking each's essence into their souls, with the added plus of ecstatically supreme sexual inward connectedness, doubly enticed by my placing my palms under each jiggling and pendulously shaking bigtit of hers, squeezing and kneading her huge soft heavy juggs, as her train and mine both with no stopping are definitely coming into the station, once and for all, and people better get the hell out of their way, now!, as my insides let loose with a fury and overwhelming sinful but temptatious and irresistible drama of volcanic eruption the likes of which I've never known.
And then, in the silence of our wondering about what just happened, of my wondering if I should be taken to the hospital, if all my internal organs and whatnot were still okay, I mean, how could they be, after all that...
...we hear it.
"It" is the grinding rumbling "grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr" of the various gears and blocks and pulleys and chain, and their low rumble vibration one could never not hear, no matter where you are in the house. It is the vaunted automatic garage door opening, heralding the imminent arrival of Gordon and Uncle Rich, about to return into the home confines, where my Aunt Nancy and I, have seconds earlier, just blown and cunnilingus'd each other, on the carpeted floor of an upstairs seldom used spare bedroom.
Last edited:
. But as always some spicy details left unclear such as..did she swallow? 
